


Showcase Heart

by psych0tastic



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Drabble Series, M/M, Slow Burn, Soulmates AU, consider yourself warned
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-25
Updated: 2014-09-24
Packaged: 2018-02-18 17:07:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2356025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psych0tastic/pseuds/psych0tastic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world where your soulmate’s first words to you are printed on your wrist, Yamaguchi hides his beneath a black wristband.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

In a world where your soulmate’s first words to you are printed on your wrist, Yamaguchi hides his beneath a black wristband.

It’s not an uncommon thing to do. Some people find it too intimate to flash at any old stranger; others like the mystery. Then there are those who have blank wrists, who cover them to be rid of pitying gazes and sympathetic smiles.

Yamaguchi does it for none of those reasons. 

He covers his wrist for himself, because he’s a coward. The excitement of having a soulmate out there, waiting for him - made to love him; to share double-popsicles with on sticky summer afternoons; to split french fries and draw ketchup doodles with - had died on the day he learnt to read the kanji on his wrist.

Some days, he fingers the worn, fuzzy fabric and wonders about the voice behind the word. The person. The tone. Some days, he wonders if he could scrub the black ink off, wishing that his wrist was blank instead. 

Some days, he tries.

Truthfully, the cloth does nothing to hide the word and the truth of it all from himself. It is seared into his mind’s eye - its strokes deliberate and harsh, deep ugly lines etched into his pale skinny wrist dotted with freckles. He feels every syllable reverberate through his bones like a gong struck, turning his blood to ice, making his breath catch in his throat and his eyes wet whenever he glimpses it in the shower - the only time he ever peels the wristband off:

‘ ** _Pathetic_**.’ 

 His reflection in the mirror wholeheartedly agrees.


	2. Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What do you do when your soulmate seems as cold and as unattainable as the moon?

Yamaguchi struggled to even his wet breathing and will away the prickling behind his eyes. He wasn’t going to cry. He _wouldn’t_. He refused.  _He wasn’t going to—-_

His ears rang with laughter.

He felt his cheeks burn with shame even as his nose continued to drip. He trembled with the strain of not blinking his eyes, because to do so would have all the tears fall and escape down his cheeks.

_Ah. Truly… he really was so very…._

The bullies’ laughter stopped.

Bemused, Yamaguchi looked up.

Through the haze of his tears, he could make out a tall silhouette some distance away, looking in their direction. It regarded them coolly, assuredly, like it had every right to be. It immediately set all the bullies on edge.

The stranger shifted. The glare of his glasses lifted.

Yamaguchi could make out sharp amber eyes behind thick glasses, gazing at the four of them. He could make out the blank expression of the other’s boyish face; the hands casually tucked inside hoodie pockets and the relaxed curve of his spine. Blond curls gleamed under the touch of the sun that framed his figure, highlighting just how tall the other was compared to them all.

Yamaguchi couldn’t breathe. His heart was pounding loudly in his ears.

He watched as the stranger’s lips slowly curled into an easy smirk. He watched as the other’s lips parted to shape the consonants —-

“ ** _Pathetic_** ,” the stranger said, and smiled.

 _Oh_ _,_  Yamaguchi thought numbly to himself. ** _Oh_**.

Yamaguchi watched as the bullies turned tail and ran. He watched as the stranger turned and walked away without so much as a backward glance. He watched the distance between them stretch and stretch, until the stranger vanished from his line of sight.

Beneath the black wristband he always wore, the skin on the inside of his wrist itched and ached like a sore.

It was a long while before Yamaguchi’s legs found the strength to stand and walk him home.


End file.
